


Nor Can Any Man

by Gray Shadows (the_afterlight)



Category: Chrono Trigger
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_afterlight/pseuds/Gray%20Shadows
Summary: During his time as the Prophet, Magus comes face to face with a past he'd thought long left behind.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ocianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ocianne/gifts).



> The album [The End of Time: Melancholy Music from Chrono Trigger](https://open.spotify.com/album/3qmP1mYLD3cSlYk6mWGVL4) was instrumental (... hah) in writing this fic. Thank you, Ocianne, for the amazing prompt.

Once upon a time, long before you and I were born, in a land where our ancestors lived among the clouds, there was a boy named Janus. Janus had a sister who loved him, and who he loved in return, and a mother who he loved, who loved him, he knew, as mothers must love their sons. But she was busy, for though she was, to him, a mother, to their kingdom she was a queen, and his sister Princess Schala, and Janus, himself, a prince, and so Janus stood quietly by, and let his sister love him in place of their mother.

Once upon a time, long before you and I were born, in a land across the sea where the monsters live, there was a man named Magus. Maou, they sometimes called him: Demon King. For though he was a man, born to a mother and a father just like you and me, he had made himself a monster, and the monsters had made him their king in turn. Over them he ruled, taking them to war against man, waiting and growing stronger and searching for the moment when he might reach his long-sought revenge.

Once upon a time, long before you and I were born, in a land beneath the shattered remnants of a once-great kingdom, there was a prophet. He had been prophet, and counsel, to a great queen, one who surely loved her son the way a mother should: for mothers must love their sons. But the queen loved power most, and the prophet knew it, and knew, too, what was to come, and the queen had in search of power summoned forth the very entity against whom the prophet sought revenge. And he failed, and the entity sunk once more into the depths of the earth, and the prophet wandered under the shattered kingdom and despaired.

Once upon a time, there was a boy, and a man, and a prophet, and they were one and the same.

* * *

Magus skulked along the hallway, ducking into an alcove when he heard someone approach. Just as he was out of sight, Dalton went by, swiftly and with purpose, paying no heed to the shadows. Magus pulled his cloak tighter around himself; despite the pleasant warmth in the air, maintained by the magics that had become such a part of Zeal, Dalton's presence always seemed to give him a chill. 

Magus waited a moment, giving Dalton time to move further down the corridor, before stepping out of the alcove and back into the sunlight, streaming in through the open windows of the outer wall. He breathed out, slowly, and closed his eyes for a moment to center himself. Turning to walk away from wherever Dalton was going, he brought himself up short: standing in the hallway, watching him, was himself.

"What are you doing?" Prince Janus asked, inquisitive rather than accusative. He was standing, head tilted curiously, his eyes not leaving Magus's face where it was shadowed by his hood. "Were you hiding from Dalton?" he continued, before Magus could respond; at the barest, furthest edges of his memory, he thought he could remember being this young child, nothing but questions and a burning want he didn't know, still, how to articulate. "My sister doesn't like Dalton. I don't think I do, either."

"Your sister is wise. If you were wise, you'd keep your distance," Magus said, at last, when Janus stopped to breathe.

"What about you?" Janus asked. "My sister doesn't trust you, but I think you're probably kind of okay. You don't like Dalton, either."

Magus ignored the stabbing sensation in his heart; Schala shouldn't trust him, he knew, nor had she any reason to. "Your sister is wise," he repeated, at a loss for anything else to say. "Keep your distance." He pulled his hood further forward and let his cloak flare behind him as he walked away, past Janus and down the hallway to his chambers.

* * *

The candle in front of Magus guttered out in a sudden draft, interrupting his meditation. He hid his startlement, turning slowly to look at the door to his chambers; it was open, though the hallway beyond was dark, with most of the lanterns put out for the night, and at first he could only make out a small, shadowed shape peering into his room. The silhouette seemed to take his attention for permission to enter: Janus walked quietly into the room and into the soft illumination of the magicked stones Magus had set in the sconces on the wall. 

"This," Magus said, frowning at his younger self, "is not what I would call keeping your distance."

Janus shook his head, and it took a moment for Magus to realise he was agreeing, after a fashion. "I know, I--" He bit off his sentence like a piece of food he hated, but knew he should eat: with resignation and distaste. "Mother is with the Mammon Machine, and Schala went down to the surface. I didn't... I don't know where else to go."

Magus' frown deepened; Janus looked into his face, winced, and turned. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"Come here," Magus said. He stood, stretching; he'd been seated, meditating, for several hours. "It's all right. I understand." And he did, more than Janus could -- or could be allowed to -- know; he remembered very well how the Mammon Machine, and his mother's obsession with it, had frightened him. He waved Janus to one of the large, comfortable chairs he never sat in and stepped over to a small table in the corner. "Honey," he said, placing his hand against the copper kettle and channeling just a bit of heat, enough to make the water inside steam, "lemon, and just a little bit of cinnamon, yes?" He prepared two mugs that way -- a dollop of honey, a slice of crystallised lemon, and a cinnamon stick to stir it, all luxuries he'd practically forgotten in the godsforsaken future -- and then poured the water over each.

"Uh," Janus stuttered, watching wide-eyed from the chair. Alfador had entered quietly behind him and settled in his lap. "How did you know?"

Magus smiled, trying for enigmatic rather than self-deprecating and uncertain if he succeeded. "Well, I am a prophet," he pointed out. "It's not all doom and gloom and grand proclamations." He handed one mug to Janus, along with a book, a tome on magic he remembered reading around Janus's age. "If you sit quietly and read, you're welcome to stay while I work. But just this once."

The next night, Schala had once more gone to the surface, and when the queen went to commune with the Mammon Machine, Magus again had a visitor. When a draft blew out his candle, he sighed, looked to the door, and nodded at the same chair. "All right," he said, "come in. But quiet, again, please."

Janus scampered across the room and into the chair, already grabbing the book and opening to where he'd left it the night before; Alfador followed and took his place in Janus' lap. While he wasn't looking, Magus allowed himself a smile, hiding it by turning to fix them each a mug to drink. It was hard to begrudge him; if Magus had had himself to go to, when he was Janus, he certainly would have been here, as well.

(Time travel, Magus reflected, made his brain ache.)

* * *

Magus walked into the small royal dining hall, intent on filling a plate with fruit and cheese and returning to his chambers to eat in solitude. Instead, he almost turned around and left immediately: sitting alone, intent over her own breakfast plate, was Schala. She looked up at his entrance, staring him down despite the shadows of his hood, and gestured at the seat beside her. 

"If you would, Prophet?" she asked, and Magus knew that it was no simple request.

He remembered that tone from his childhood.

"Princess," he said, nodding at her in assent. He filled his plate swiftly before taking a seat at the table, and then hesitated: he usually ate in his chambers so that he could push back his hood. Eating in the dining hall, however... After a moment, Schala watching with an unnerving calm, he pushed his hood back and picked up a slice of melon. "How do you find the morning?"

Schala smiled softly, but triumphantly. "I find it curious, Prophet," she explained. "My brother has told me that you welcomed him into your chambers, these last few evenings."

Magus swallowed. "Only two," he explained, "and against my better judgment. Still, I thought..." He trailed off, not wanting to speak ill of Schala's -- of his -- mother, not out of any affection but because he needed Schala to think of him as his mother's colleague, as her confidante. "He seemed unnerved by the queen's visits to the Mammon Machine. I thought it harmless."

"You are a most remarkable... man, Prophet," Schala said, throwing a pointed look at his pointed ears. "Perhaps there is more to you than I believed."

"I assure you, I am exactly as I seem," Magus insisted. "A humble prophet, nothing more. I seek only to work in service of the queen and guide her as my visions of the future allow."

Schala picked up the last piece of cheese from her plate, fiddling with it a moment before popping it into her mouth. She swallowed quickly, shaking her head. "I won't tell you to stay away from Janus," she said, finally, and Magus barely managed to conceal his surprise. "Mother is... I know not what game you're playing, Prophet, but Mother is... not what she once was. If Janus has found safehaven with you, of all people, I won't begrudge him that. Just promise me..."

Magus waited for her to finish her sentence, until finally he could wait no more. "Promise you...?" he led.

Shaking her head, as if to clear the cobwebs, Schala finished, "Promise me that he will come to no harm. If anything happened to Janus..."

Magus noted that she did not ask the same safeguard for herself, and wondered which of them might truly boast knowledge of the future. "I will do what I can," he said. "I can promise nothing more, nor can any man."

Schala stood, stepping away from the table -- and from Magus. "Thank you," she told him. "I guess that is all I can ask. Have a good morning, Prophet."

"And you, Princess," Magus replied. As she left, he, too, got up from the table, lifting his hood and leaving his plate behind. Somehow, he found he'd lost his appetite.

* * *

Magus stared at the monstrosity in front of him: Schala and Lavos both, fused by some unholy process. _I'm sorry,_ he thought, wishing he dared say the words out loud to her. _I couldn't keep my promise. I came to much harm, some by my own hand._

_Janus._ Schala's voice echoed in his head. _Magus. It was not your fault. You could not have stopped Lavos, nor prevented yourself from falling through time. It was destiny._

"Screw destiny!" he cried, and hefted his scythe. He leapt and slashed down at Lavos, just beside where Schala's body met the shell. The blade skittered across the shell, throwing sparks, but did no damage; a wave of energy pulsed from Lavos, throwing Magus to the ground. He pushed himself to his feet and leapt again, just as uselessly.

_Janus. You cannot beat him with power alone._ Silent tears fell down Schala's face. _Power is a crutch, it cannot prevail. You must--_

A tear fell and splashed against Lavos's shell, and time stopped around them. Schala opened her eyes, and they met Magus's. He growled, pushing himself up once again. "Schala, I _will_ save you."

"You'll try," she said, her voice weak. "Oh, you'll try. Janus, I love you." She raised her hands, pulling away from Lavos just enough that she could fling a ball of energy at Magus.

"Schala!" he cried, before it hit. "What are you doing?" He tried to dodge, but the sphere swerved and enveloped him, and everything went black.

In the darkness, he heard one last whisper: _Janus..._ Then he knew nothing more. 

_(Elsewhere, and elsewhen, a man named Guile awoke in a town called Termina, and began planning the infiltration of a place called Viper Manor...)_


End file.
